Do you think that they'll understand That their fate is in their own hands? - Savoir Adore

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  • allbymyself 26w

    This is May, but there's no sun
    outside the window, the rain's a screaming
    on a half made bed, you toss and turn
    never knowing when you're awake, and when dreaming

    This is the craven touch
    of cold fingers on numb skin
    forgotten warmth that meant so much
    now you are slipping, sinking into sin.

    Once you walked upon holy earth
    counting stars in a tear filled sky
    now you burn away in a desolate hearth
    ripped off your wings before you learned to fly

    Yours is the face that laughs at death
    now you have shed your last tear
    yours is the mouth that sings of fragile faith
    hope crumbling like bone china, now there's only fear.

    - Avitaj

    @dopamine @thegreymetaphor @raika_ @accismus

    Picture credit- Unknown

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    Cold Fingers on Numb Skin

    I could start fires with what I feel for you
    The sun could fade out and we'd see it through

    - Fires, David Ramirez

  • allbymyself 30w

    This is the sunshine
    when the roads are still
    the creaking of silence
    at the edge of a window sill.

    These are the paths our
    feet have learned to walk
    the slipping away of tired steps
    whenever there comes a knock.

    This is the song born on
    the shores of gilded water
    bearing the joy of the son
    and the tears of the daughter.

    This is the day on which
    falls the first midwinter snow
    the skies which tether the hope
    we are too afraid to let go.

    This is the war we fight
    before the descent of peace
    the shadow that stalls the light
    before the blood must cease.

    - Avitaj

    @dopamine @thegreymetaphor @raika_

    Picture credit- Marek Piwnicki

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    Gilded Water

    Once I wanted to be the greatest
    No wind or waterfall could stall me
    And then came the rush of the flood
    Stars at night turned deep to dust

    - The Greatest, Cat Power

  • allbymyself 31w

    Once upon a time
    when the stars were
    young, and the hope
    of a new dawn hadn't
    been stolen from the night
    your feet stumbled and
    fell from the inky skies
    so you lurched from
    one nightmare to another
    staggered with broken toes
    from one impossible dream
    and landed in the middle of
    another, limped from one
    flicker of light to the other
    as your breath came in short
    bursts and your song was
    sweet evanescence that
    floated away into that region
    of the cosmos which no
    human hands have ever touched.

    - Avitaj

    @dopamine @thegreymetaphor @raika_
    Picture credit- Francesco Ungaro

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    Sweet Evanescence

    Once upon a time
    when the stars were young

  • allbymyself 31w

    Picture from Unsplash

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    You tell me that art is what heaven must feel like and what hell wishes it was, where some dreams are born and others die, but no dream is left on its own.

    You tell me that art is honesty of a kind that first melts, and eventually breaks your heart, it comes from joy and a cold sort of despair, it is catharsis that gives you hope when there is .

    - Avitaj

  • allbymyself 31w

    Yours is the skin
    upon which the light
    falls, yours is the face
    which the sword slices
    yours is the blood that
    screams in unending silence
    yours is the soul which
    houses ten thousand
    virtues and equally
    ten thousand vices.

    Yours is the bone
    which knows how
    and when it must break
    yours is the palm that
    knows what to take
    yours is the heart
    that has unshakeable
    bonds with the earth
    lived in the shadow
    yours is the voice that
    knows to unsheathe
    with words akin to
    a bow and arrow.

    - Avitaj

    @dopamine @raika_ @thegreymetaphor

    Picture credit- Patrick Jansen

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    And you
    You make me run
    And you
    You make me want to live

    - You, Fisher

  • allbymyself 31w

    This is time
    the way we remember
    before she floated
    away from our soul
    the slow gentle
    creak of a clock
    in the distance
    as the howl of
    a wolf is heard
    near the grass
    where dreams lay
    a memory trapped
    in a silver shadow
    under the starshine
    straining to clamber
    out of the quicksand.

    This is where
    my thoughts slow
    down and my reality
    becomes a blur, a
    story that I can read
    only under candlelight
    because the sun
    is far too bright
    your hands are quicksilver
    as they trace tears
    upon the lining
    of my weary face
    your voice the truth
    your words the lie
    as we crawl to
    the end of the race.

    - Avitaj

    @dopamine @thegreymetaphor @raika_

    For whatever reasons, I have not had much motivation to write recently, but I will most likely resume posting daily, or at the least, every alternate day.

    Picture credit- Vadim Sadovski

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    Memory comes when memory's old
    I am never the first to know
    Following the stream up North
    Where do people like us float

    Morning, keep the streets empty for me

    - Keep The Streets Empty For Me, Ray Fever

  • allbymyself 34w

    The song from your lip
    is a memory, a scream
    from the forgotten skies
    the fire on your breath
    is the scar tissue from
    a scorned sun; the starlight
    from a crashing meteor
    that is marked by life yet
    carries the scent of death.

    The words that fall from
    your half opened mouth
    are switch blade knives
    that cut through the edges
    of my skin, a whisper
    that slices through my
    bone with the force
    of a sledgehammer.

    The story you narrate
    as the starlight slips in
    through the blinds is
    inchoate, as indecisive
    as the thoughts that
    run like unchecked
    rainwater in your mind
    your face an uncut gem
    a treasure that I might
    forever seek but never find.

    - Avitaj

    Hi @raika_ @thegreymetaphor @dopamine

    Picture credit- Lucas Newton

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    She bent most of the rules. She broke the rest.

    - Victoria Schwab

  • allbymyself 37w

    Sometimes they laugh
    because they do not see
    what is so beautiful about
    clinging on to candlelit
    dreams at the edges of
    your hair; they have not
    a prayer of comprehending
    the peace that floods into
    your skin like fresh air upon
    holding fireflies in your fingers.

    Sometimes they laugh
    because they read the words
    scribbled but not the soft
    laughter that lies between them
    they will never have the
    simple pleasure of knowing
    what music does to your
    soul when your body has
    forgotten how to listen.

    Sometimes they laugh
    because they think they
    know you because they
    have memorized every inch
    of your face, and every
    unsteady step of your feet
    but they never have and
    never will know the white
    hot flame of your shadow
    nor the red mist that is the
    cornerstone of your heart.

    - Avitaj

    @dopamine @raika_ @thegreymetaphor

    Hiya. Still here. Just not writing as much these days. But this is my happy place and I will always stay. Somehow. Anyhow.

    Picture credit- Asa Steinarsdottir

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    Fireflies In Your Fingers

    I guess that's part of growing up too. Saying goodbye to the things you used to love.

    - Jenny Han (Always and Forever, Lara Jean)

  • allbymyself 38w

    Wild and vicious
    was the dance we
    had with the devil
    under pale blue moonlight
    up in the stars
    defying gravity were
    my feet and neon
    was my breath as
    the world fell from sight.

    Quiet and gentle
    was the tune they
    played as the flames
    licked the city street
    up in the deck chairs
    the sun hung low
    and the wind was asleep
    words were our games
    as disaster came to meet.

    Strong yet fragile
    were your bones
    as you fell to the floor
    and called my name
    brave but brittle
    is your young soul
    as you pray for change
    yet every day is the same.

    - Avitaj

    @dopamine @raika_ @thegreymetaphor

    Picture credit- Ivan Tsaregorodtsev

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    Deck Chairs

    Fear both the heat and the cold of your heart, and try to have patience, if you can.

    - J.R.R.Tolkien

  • allbymyself 38w

    Picture credit- Luke Senica

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    Near the mountaintop, where the cold is biting and the snow not merely a gorgeous figment of our imagination, it is lonely; with the sort of quiet, that makes your heart pine for human speech.
    Near the top, it is lonely, and we must embrace the shadows and seek the light, all the light we cannot see.

    - Avitaj